Hi again.

So I’ve found that studying in Edinburgh is quite hard. I don't feel the environment that helps me focus at UR here-in a city there is just always so much going on and way too many distractions. And my impression of the library has not changed since I last wrote. I wanted to go there to study early one morning this week until I found out it didn't open until 10 a.m. I'm telling you these people are lahazy.

Just kidding. I have had some really great discussions in my tutorials this week and really am amazed at the how interesting my classes are. I feel like I've definitely lucked out considering how great and welcoming my professors are, and they're really quite funny too, which is nice.
 

In terms of my studies, I can sum up the past week with this quote taken from an article I read by Jan Narveson titled, “Pacifism: A Philosophical Analysis” . Narveson writes, "On the other hand, one might believe that having a duty does not consist in believing that one has and yet believe that only those people really have the duty who believe that they have it." Um...is that English?

In reality though I hope to post soon some of my thoughts that have come out of the various readings I've done in my “War and Justice” class, but as of now they are simply not coherent enough. Perhaps this doesn't sound that interesting to many but as Trotsky's said “You may not be interested in war, but war is
interested in you." (In case you’re wondering, I don’t go around randomly quoting Trotsky much. The previous quote was cited in the book I'm reading for my “War and Justice” class, "Just and Unjust Wars", by Michael Walzer.) To make a long story short the book is really disturbing and basically refuses to allow you to think that you can ignore somehow thinking about war and the consequences of war and what war has meant and does mean to us as humans. Among the things I've been thinking about in the past week from our various readings in the course: What is sacrifice? (Thus leading me to wonder what I or any of the people I know been asked to sacrifice for the current war our country is waging.) What would I die for? What would I be willing to kill for? Is it ever okay to take another human being's life in the name of "a greater cause"? Is there really a universal moral language that we can bring into the context of war or is that just a silly ideal? Let me tell you, that Michael Walzer character is a barrel of laughs.

I'm continuing to feel more at home here each day and a huge part of that is how well I've connected with my flat mate Charlie. I think I may be in love with her actually. Here are a few reasons why: 1) Her parents own a catering company in England, and operate something she refers to as "the burger van." She refers to said burger van constantly ("...and this one time, on the burger van...") and often says (in her very posh accent) things such as, "Do you think my coat smells of buuuhhhgerrrrs?" 2) She drives me to Sainsbury's for groceries, a lovely gesture that not only saves me lots of money but allows me to roam the mega aisles of a supermarket for thirty minutes a week and feel as if I'm back in America. 3) Charlie's majoring in Geography and is a huge nerd. In the span of five minutes she will start talk about igneous rock formations, Kurdish people and the benefits of wind-energy, all of which are apparently things you learn about when you major in Geography. (Oh, and it's a very American thing to scoff when you hear of this major and say, "You're majoring in Geography? What the hell kind of a major is that-Geography? HA! So like, what do you DO once you've found out where all the countries are?" as an unnamed American friend (Evan Fain) did the first time he met Charlie, thus cementing the fact that she will hold a grudge against him for life. (Basically what they call a Geography major here is sort of combination of studying Environmental Science, Geology, International Politics and Economics.)

Charlie watches clips of Ross and Rachel moments on YouTube.com every day.


I had a really wonderful weekend this past week. Evan sister's Jessica was visiting him from the States and he wanted to leave the city for a bit and show her the Highlands. Since Charlie has a car here, a group of us decided to head up three hours north for hiking and a night in a hostel. It was my first time really out of the city and not to sound like a huge nerd but I did really feel like I was in a Lord of the Rings film or something. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Everything is so green and lush, there are so many rivers and so much of the land has really been isolated from human impact. I basically stared out the window with my mouth open like a four-year-old kid the whole trip up there, taking it all in.

When we got to Fort William, our destination, it was raining REALLY hard (which is saying a lot in Scotland) and some of the really intelligent people I was traveling with forgot proper rain gear, thus ruling out a hike for the afternoon. Instead we walked around some castle ruins for a bit and then ended up at a pub watching the football match between Scotland and France. I don't know if it was the fact that we were in northern Scotland or what, but I felt like I was getting an authentic football watching/Scottish pub experience at this place, complete with a young guy completely passed out on the couch by 5pm and an old man and woman screaming at the television in what sounded like gibberish to me for three straight hours. Scotland had not beaten France in 17 years, nor where they expected to that win that match that day. They ended up winn, Fort Billying 1-0, so it was some pretty exciting stuff. My friends that were back in Edinburgh that night said that people were going nuts on the street.

Watching the match in the pub.


I think that our hostel, which was called "Chase the Wild Goose...Be Inspired"(greatest hostel name EVER) was like the Four Seasons of hostels. It was so nice and so much nicer than our flat in Edinburgh that I think we may go every weekend just to use a proper kitchen with actual pots and pans and then have access to a dishwasher afterwards! Even the beds were more comfortable. "Chase the Wild Goose...Be Inspired" is run by a sweet/very creepy dude named Andrew and he let us borrow his personal Scrabble set after dinn, Fort Billyer to spice up the night's festivities. I came in last out of everyone (devastating), though I still am certain Evan and Jessica had rigged the game. Plus Rafe, who is from Johannesburg, South Africa tried to get away with stuff like saying that he spells "frozen" like "frosen" because he is South African. I mean, I have no idea who would fall for that...

In the morning we went on two separate hikes. Here are some pictures from hike number one.



Then we drove for an hour or so to a place called Devil's staircase.

Prepared to hike in my super cool UR tracksuit.

Some of the rock formations we saw there prompted Charlie to squeal "Guys this is Geology IN ACTION!" further solidifying my belief that she is crazy.


It was so nice to reach the top finally, and wonderful to realize that I probably need to start running occasionally if I want to live to age thirty. And not to get all sentimental but...standing up there on the top of Devil's Staircase, catching my breath, I felt so happy to be exactly where I was in that moment. I suppose I felt this sense of real independence, of complete freedom, and really of great happiness. It's like you finally realize all that you have lying in front of you and how there is so much in the world that you have not seen and that you don't know and how much there is to learn, forever. How small you are really are in a way, how terribly, terribly tiny you are in the grand scheme of things. And for some reason I started to think of my parents.

I guess that it's easy to always look at parents, as well, parents. They've always existed in my eyes as Mom and Dad. But of course that is not who they always have been. (I mean, right now the thought of any of my friends as being parents is kind of hysterical actually.) But obviously at one point my parents too were young like me- doing exciting things and feeling the same rush of youth I felt on top of that mountain in Northern Scotland, standing up there with four people I hadn't even known for a month, wondering exactly how everything had led me to that moment. My parents too had lives full of expectations and hopes for themselves just as I have now, and to think of how they have done so much and given up so much for me sort of hit me right then. I guess it's a selflessness that is hard to comprehend when you are a few weeks of shy of turning twenty. Tear.

View from the top of Devil's Staircase.


Lastly, the weekend trip to the highlands involved a rainbow sighting and a hairy coo visit, two things that always equal a good time to me.

Here is Hamish the Hairy Coo.


Tuesday was Evan's 21st birthday. Charlie, Natalie, and I threw him an 80's party and it was, um, interesting to say the least. It is strange to see people you've never lied eyes on hanging out in your room or to walk in on two complete strangers making out in your kitchen. ("Oh gee, sorry to interrupt you two, I JUST HAPPEN TO LIVE HERE."). It's also wonderful to get your bathroom door broken and find your couch with a huge hole in it come morning, but I suppose it's a small price to pay if a good night of fun is had by the greater community. If anything, the party experience has given me a new found respect for the portion of the male community at UR who happen to host most social gatherings. (At least in my experience-I do not speak for everyone though!) I suppose there is something about women and large messes/belligerent strangers/broken furniture that doesn't quite mix. And Evan, like the good ol' American male he is, drank just a wee bit too much in celebration of this milestone birthday and had to call it an early night, in the form of falling asleep in Natalie's bed by 11p.m. (Of course the majority of people at the party were not from the U.S. and thought it was a bit lame how SUPER AWSOME we Americans think turning 21 is. But let’s not get me started on how idiotic I think the drinking age in America is). All in all though, the night was a success.

Charlie, Olenka and I enjoying some birthday cake.

James, Missy, Ben, Gael and Michael at the party.

Em and the birthday boy.



The weather is getting colder here every day, which is quite sad. But I literally can not wait for the next few weeks. I am heading off to Dublin next Thursday to visit my crazy and wonderful friend Kevin, a student at TCD in the city. Then my mother and grandmother are coming to visit me for a week, which means lots of touristy stuff in Edinburgh and I hope a meal or two out... And then I'm going to meet up with my Richmond roommate, Lauren, in Rome. From there we are going to stay with her relatives in Naples for two day, which kind of terrifies me because I don't speak any Italian, so I just plan on laughing with her uncles as if I know what they're saying and stuffing my face with amazing Italian food, as is my normal behavior at all Piccolo family gatherings.

All this summer people that I worked with who had traveled abroad in college kind of looked at me funny with their heads tilted to the side when I told them I was going off to Edinburgh in the fall. They would clutch my arm, eyes practically bulging out of their head and say, "OHMYGOD you're going abroad you're going to have THE MOST amazing time" (A statement that was often accompanied by that wonderful, "Oh and also enjoy your youth while it lasts, cause it's all downhill after that baby" speech. ) At the time, I kind of just nodded politely, somewhat afraid that it would be impossible to experience something like what they clearly had. But I think I'm beginn, Fort Billying to realize what going abroad is about and why it feels so special to each person that does it. To be solely on your own, to make friends who come from different cultures, to realize you have found new ways of thinking about what it means to you to be an American, and lastly to learn things about yourself that you didn't know before, things both good and bad-that is what makes these four months what they are. So yeah, come to Richmond. Go abroad. WOOO HOOOO.

Hello again. I’m just going to dive right into my next entry. So after experiencing classes at Edinburgh for two weeks now I have come to various conclusions about the education system at this University and I'm sure you're dying to know all of them. I also have fascinating updates for you concerning what has occurred in my life in the past week. The scary thing is, once I start writing I feel like I could write forever and the ideas and observations just start spilling out, so please bear with the length of my entry. I mean, I could write a few pages solely on the differences between the dress and dance styles of American men and European men but… I have a feeling that isn’t the number one concern on everyone’s mind. So, here goes…

In a nutshell: the University education system is incredibly different here, at least from my experience at UR and it is taking a lot of getting used to. I currently am enrolled in three classes. Two of them, (“Modern Political Theory” and “War and Justice”, my third year honors courses) only have one lecture and one tutorial per week. My third class, “Asia and Africa 2”, is a survey course and meets three times a week along with a weekly tutorial, and seems the most similar to a class at Richmond, at least so far. The lectures at Edinburgh are absolutely massive. You can fall sleep during them, talk with your neighbor, eat a sandwich that costs you three pounds, text on your mobile, read the new Grazia (the UK’s version of US Weekly btw) or simply not show up and, um, no is going to bat an eye or care at all. Coming from UR, where it's pretty easy to notice who isn't in class or if someone is casually listening to their iPod mid-lecture, it's all a bit strange. I am lucky that my honors level lecturers are not only clearly brilliant but also amazingly interesting speakers because I usually need some interaction in classes to keep me focused. At the very least I enjoy the thrill that comes with the possibility that you may make eye contact with your professor at some point, thus helping one stay awake. Here the professors seem light years away-teeny tiny figures in the distance. They wear microphones. I can honestly say I've yet to skip one class thus far, but when the lectures are that large (and the slides are all available online) it is more tempting. I feel like a bit of a nerd for wishing my lectures were more interactive. When walking up to my flat the other day I heard some British students talking in the stairwell and one girl said, "All the Americans are always raising their hands in lectures. It's so....weird. They’re all super eager." Yeah…

On the other hand however, the tutorials that I have for my classes here are even more intense than a regular class at UR. In a tutorial you meet with a group of about nine students from your lecture and a random professor that doesn’t teach your lecture (confusing right?) and you have to be prepared to speak, in depth, about A LOT of reading. Since the entire hour of the tutorial is based around discussion, showing up with nothing to say makes you kind of look like an idiot and I have been doing much more reading and note taking in preparation for these weekly discussions than I would have expected. I enjoy the discussions though and already can say I prefer the tutorials over the lectures.

The hardest thing for me to adjust to though has been the concept of "homework." At Richmond, and I assume at most colleges and universities in America, you get a syllabus in each course. They tell you to buy books W, X, Y and Z. You are told what chapters to read and what articles to print out for each specific week. Presentations are doled out. The word "powerpoint" crosses everyone's lips. Over the span of a few months you have a few papers and quizzes assigned, a test or two or three, and then of course an exam (sometimes even a mid-term! Crazy Americans and their mid-terms!) In short, you have, um, concrete assignments. Yeah here…not so much. Not really their style. Here it’s very much, "read one or two of the following 46 books", or “after the lecture explore whatever you need to feel a better grasp of the subject." They throw out a lot of “suggested readings.” I guess it’s sad that I miss being told exactly what readings my professor is forcing me to do, not merely “suggesting” that I do. In each of my courses I only have one paper and one exam assigned ALL SEMESTER LONG. I suppose you could argue that in America students are given a lot of busy work (which I think is definitely true) and maybe there is a bit of hand-holding but I honestly think that the system at UR is better, in terms of the amount of effort students put in. I don’t think there is anything wrong with giving students a guide for their course of study or setting exact goals for them to accomplish. I also don't like going into a class or discussion when everyone has read different articles and books on the topic and therefore people are all over the place in terms of the origins of their thoughts. I know I seem to complaining a lot. I suppose I am. Sorry. I guess I am just adjusting to an entirely new environment of learning. It’s a process, like everything else.

So far I really am enjoying my “War and Justice” class. I can already tell after two classes that this course is going to challenge me in ways I don't think I ever have been and not just from a strictly academic standpoint. It’s the type of class that makes you think all week long about what you have read and seen and makes you question the values you hold and why you hold them. The first article my professor assigned, written by Ken Booth (“Human Wrongs and International Relations”, find it on JSTOR and read it!!) literally blew my mind. Booth writes about the role of ethics in International Relations. He also writes a lot about how Westerners look at the world and what we choose to block out and what this is going to mean in the future, because in his opinion the world can not carry on as it has for the past century much longer. Booth writes, "We look, daily, at the agony of Africa…How do our intelligent and caring minds cope with so many human wrongs? In today's wired world we have nowhere to hide, except in our own minds. Consequently we weave stories which help us choose our wrongs selectively." I’ve been thinking about his article a lot, especially as I find myself more and more confused about “what I want to do with my life.” (Love that question!) The fact that I have the time and the freedom to ponder such things is in itself a luxury. I guess I am torn between wanting to find a life, and a living, doing something that will help other people have a chance at a better life, a more equal life (like that ideal isn't broad enough...), but then also wanting to explore my deep interests in art and fashion-and in that sense I guess to simply continue being a ravenous consumer who shuts herself off to inequalities that are so mind boggling they cause migraines. It’s that age old question(s). Can I make a difference? What will make me happy? Why do I enjoy fashion magazines so much?Does that mean I’m going to hell? Is it frivolous to think maybe I want to devote my life to something that has to do with art-writing, photography, design, etc? If I have been blessed with so much in my life how can I NOT consider a profession or lifestyle that will in someway help the lives of those less fortunate? What kind of earth is going to be left for our children? God damn professors that assign work that makes you think about these things. It’s just mean.

I’m sure all of my millions of readers are also wondering: “What is it like studying politics in a European country as an American?” That's a bit of a loaded question and I hope to address it in more detail later on when I have moved further along in my classes. Already though, I have been astounded at the level of focus that is put on the United States and its’ foreign policy in my courses here. I really do want to write more about this later, and I feel horribly uniformed right now, but I guess at this point I’m still just adjusting to the dominance of the U.S. in all of my lectures and discussions. The attitude from students and lecturers is very much one of: "Americans think they're the center of the universe and it's all about them and they do as they please" but the students and lecturers spend so much time talking about the U.S that it’s almost like a self-fulfilling prophecy! I’ve never felt America’s dominance so much until I came here. I had some vague notion of it but really had no idea how much people in the rest of the world talk about America. It is the world super power and it’s strange to fully grasp what that means. I think clearly part of it is how sheltered I was/am and how not very well traveled I’ve been. It's just strange to fully realize how much of the rest of the world focuses on the decisions our country makes, and how much of the rest of the world is quite angry right now. I consider myself fairly open minded and liberal but I have had to bite my tongue a few times when I hear some students saying pretty horrible things about America and its’ people, most of the time really ridiculously generalized b.s. Basically, I hate when people make statements that are so cliché and extreme that they leave nothing open to discussion. Whether someone says “Bush is dumber than my four-year-old nephew and is ruining the world” or “Bush is a true leader and would beat your world leader in a fist fight and we should just trust him because he’s the man”-those types of statements get nothing accomplished. And they annoy me a lot.

Along those same lines...I think the whole idea that America's youth is uninformed and uninterested in global affairs is unfair as well. I somehow got the idea that every student in Europe is a lot more interested, and knowledgeable, about politics then young Americans and perhaps that is just an impression I alone had. Not sure why, or how that idea was formed, but it’s something I came over here with. What I've realized though is I think it's the same everywhere you go when it comes to youth. At UR you will find student activists milling about campus and going to meetings and you will find people discussing politics in the library or at the dining hall. And you will also find many people pouring over Biology textbooks and drama scripts who don’t really care about today’s newspaper headlines. And of course there will be people talking about tomorrow night’s frat parties and asking "how many calories do you think are REALLY in the fro-yo mix?" (Realistically, I think most people fall somewhere in between.) Anyhow, I think it's the same way here. I've met many people who are up for talking about international politics at flat parties and many people, like my two British flat mates, who really would rather clean our toilets all day than talk about Tony Blair and his relationship with George Bush and immigration issues in their country. Basically, I’m learning not to generalize.

Moving on from academia. I've spent more time exploring this city and each day it charms me more and more. It is the best of both worlds-museums and restaurants and clubs and pubs all mixed in with a sort of neighborhood feel and a sense of community. And it’s so freaking beautiful! Last week on a Thursday the weather was absolutely gorgeous and hot and sunny and being that this is rainy Scotland the entire city felt energized and delirious all day long. I also went to an exhibit by the Australian sculptor Ron Mueck at the Royal Scottish Academy Building with my friend Evan. You must google Ron Mueck right now! His stuff is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Mueke sculpts incredibly realistic human forms (they have veins and freckles and stubble and calluses) but he either makes them incredibly large in scale or less than life size. You find yourself staring at a ten foot tall man or two little old women gossiping and feel at any moment that they are going to start moving and talking. It’s incredibly disturbing, but you can not look away either.
Here is one of Mueck's pieces.


I've also checked out the Scottish National Portrait Museum which was very cool (and free!) and I'm hoping to soon see some photography exhibits of Robert Mapplethorpe's and Henry Benson. I love Henry Benson. And next week I'm going to the Zurich Ballet when it comes to Edinburgh. I haven't seen ballet dancing since I was probably eight-years-old and as my obsession for the nutcracker still lingers I am very, very excited.

Last week my flat mate Charlie also dragged me to a hip-hop dance class. Supposedly going abroad is all about trying new things and "finding yourself" and that is exactly what happened at this class. I found myself. At UR I would probably be too embarrassed to show up at a hip-hop dance class, (God forbid I run into someone in D-hall who saw me fall on my face...) but here it was a different story. The instructor, Mike, had more energy than Sara Shangraw after four cups of coffee. Mike is from Glasgow, five foot five, very pale and bald and had a metal pole lodged between his nose. After an hour of dancing to the new Justin Timberlake CD with a bunch of Scottish people, all I can say is that I simply can not wait to America to demonstrate my new moves.

I feel lucky that I haven't been too homesick so far. I do miss my friends from Richmond quite a bit, but so many of them are abroad too and that certainly helps. The only bad day I've had when I felt a bit "anti going abroad" was when I was "removed" from the University library for trying to sneak in without my student I.D. card. You see, I live a thirty minute walk from the library and was really looking forward to an exciting afternoon of studying that particular day, especially since I find it hard to focus in my room. On the way in to the library, I realized I had forgotten my card at my flat, but I figured it wouldn't be the end of the world. Well, I was wrong. The security guard didn't seem to care that I had all my textbooks and articles with me and that I really was so very sorry to have forgotten my card and couldn’t he just trust me this once and let me slip by? Nope, he could not. As he escorted me out of the building I looked up and saw a sign up that read: "Main Library Closing: 10:00 pm tonight". Well, well, well I thought, at Richmond they don't throw you out of libraries AND our library is open twenty-four hours a day! We can study all night long if we want! All night! I didn’t say this to him of course, but I was not happy. As I walked back to my flat in the rain, scowling at nothing in particular, I found myself missing LOST and Grey’s Anatomy and boys who don’t wear capri pants and understandable homework assignments and my mom. I missed my friends the most. At the flat I put my work off to the side and decided that since that I was in a bad mood it was a great time to look for a flight to Florence to visit my friend Lauren. An hour and a half later, after browsing thirteen airline sites I finally accepted I would have to spend 600 pounds and bound around four different airports just to be in Florence with her for 48 hours. It wasn’t going to happen. But really that was the only bad span of a day I’ve had in the past month. It’s hard to be sad in Scotland.

Last night my flat mates and I walked outside of the city for a roast dinn, Fort Billyer of haggis and beer (lamb’s inn, Fort Billyards, yum!). On the way home we went to a pub and watched some American football. It was literally the best of both worlds, all in one night. And I’ve also had a dream that I was skiing with Wayne Rooney, so I think I can say I really am settling into the culture just fine. Life is good.


Enjoying Edinburgh Castle with fellow Richmond folk.

I find these labels amusing.

I have to be honest-my flat mate took this picture on a field trip. But I like it.

Enjoying sunny Edinburgh.

Arthur's seat.

As I said in my last entry, before I was off to Edinburgh I was first heading to London to visit my old babysitter Asa. When I got on the plane in Boston at 8 p.m. I was very excited. I had just gotten off the phone with my best friend from Richmond, Lauren, (who is about to head to Florence) and feeling as giddy as a kid on Christmas Eve. I was ready to settle in for some tasty plane flood and mindless entertainment. "Hmmm Nacho Libre or An Inconcievable Truth?", I wondered. I chose the later and spent the rest of the flight thinking about the scary facts and images that Al Gore had just shown me and how clueless I was about global warming. It's a really powerful film (and it's actually quite entertaining too, believe it or not). I hope that I don't let myself forget the way the movie made me feel (naive, shocked, scared and finally, empowered) and I actually do something about the crisis, as the movies insists we all can.

By the time we landed, and as I stood in line at customs, it was 3 a.m. U.S. time and I hadn't slept a wink. My buzz of joy was starting to wear thin. I was supposdely meeting Asa, a woman that I haven't seen since I was seven years old, by a coffee shop near the "exit". She said she would be wearing "red pants". I remembered her as blonde. And that was about all I had to work with. As I exited customs I felt as if I had just walked into the opening scene of the film "Love Actually." Hugh Grant's voice was playing in a loop in my head as everyone around me seemed to be hugging and jumping up and down and grinn, Fort Billying like mad people. I didn't see Asa anywhere but, then again, did I even remember what she looked like? I steered my cart full of luggage around. I saw three coffee shops and numerous women wearing red pants. I sat down by a Coke machine that I didn't have proper money for and felt some panic wash over me. I had no cell phone. I was starting to wish I was in Boatwright Library back at UR, downing red bull and pouring over numerous text books instead. Twenty minutes later a blonde woman tapped me on the shoulder. "Are you Caroline?", she asked me in a Swedish accent, looking a bit scared herself. It was Asa.

I spent the next three days going about London with Asa, her adorable son Filip and her husband Christian. The highlight of that was visiting the Tate Modern Museum. At the Tate I saw a special exhibit by the abstract artist Wassily Kandinsky. I suppose I have been to a normal amount of museums in my life and seen a fair amount of art. But this exhibit was very powerful to me for some reason and I definitely recommend that anyone who is in London goes and sees it! The show documented Kandinsky's progression from painting more traditional scenes, like landscapes, into his creation of very abstract images involving extremely vivid colors. It also covered Kandinsky's personal quest of expressing spirituality through art and of the similarities he found between art and music-of how he believed a musical note and a color could produce the same effect. It was fascinating.

The rest of the museum had some really amazing works like Salvador Dali's "Metamorphosis of Narcissus" (it's so cool to actually see the original of something you've always looked at as just someone's poster!) but also some pieces that I just found silly. Kind of like, this is art? However, I do find this attitude I can fall into (and I know others do too) kind of frustrating. That whole outlook of- "Well, that's just a red canvas with a blue block on it. I could have painted that when I was three years old, even IF I had just gotten up from my nap"-bothers me. It's kind of like when my father, streched out comfortably in a chair, beer in hand, yells at the World Cup players on the television: "Pass you idiot" or, "Why didn't you shoot! Shooooot". Um, excuse me but when is the last time you even did any serious cardio? I guess I just feel that in theory creating things seems easy-we can all paint, write, sing, play soccer etc. We all have the potential to create, to be "do-ers". But few people actually do it. Few people get to play in the World Cup. Few have at least just the nerve and drive to put something out into the world that is their own, and even less can then create things that touch a cord in other people. I admire anyone who tries, even if I don't find a toilet bowl mounted on a museum wall that inspiring. And speaking of my father, he happened to be in London on business when I was there and so I got to see him for dinn, Fort Billyer at Asa's flat before I left. I am hoping he comes to visit me in Scotland. My mom and grandmother already have a trip planned for late October, and I hope by then I can lead them around the city as a student, and not just as a tourist.

Flying out of Heathrow on Sunday morning I felt a wave of fear wash over me. But I was struck at how familiar this feeling was-It was exactly how I had felt when I drove down to Richmond two years earlier with my mom, excited of course, but also on the verge of a panic attack. It had taken me awhile to adjust to Richmond-it wasn't that I was exactly homesick, but I missed the strong bonds of my friends from high school, how well we knew each other, how easy it was to laugh and cry with them. How could I ever find that again, I wondered. Would I? But in two years at Richmond I have made friends I hope I have for the rest of my life. It's almost strange to think I didn't even know those people three years ago!

I am very excited to be doing Spider Diaries this semester and to share with everyone my experience of studying abroad in Edinburgh. Right now I am doing last minute packing and errands and feeling very much ready to get my travels and studies started!

Before I head off to Edinburgh I’m first flying to London and staying there for three nights with a good family friend. Her name is Asa and I haven’t seen in her in ten years! Asa is originally from Sweden, but now lives in London with her husband and two-year-old son. I can not wait to see her and to have a few days to wander about London before my studies in Edinburgh officially begin.

It’s hard to believe that the summer is over. I guess I always feel this way whenever September finally hits, but for some reason, more than ever, I feel like the past three months flew by incredibly fast.



I spent the summer living with my father in New York City and interning at Bloomberg LP. Being that New York City is such a boring place with very little to do, the summer just inched on painfully slowly….Yeah…No…In reality, I was not bored for a second and very much fell in love with all New York City has to offer: the endless museums to explore, the food, Central Park, the food, and the various friends from high school and college that were scattered all about. The overall energy of the city is truly incredible and living there I think (well I hope) helped me feel comfortable learning to navigate a city by myself and to get accustomed to feeling utterly anonymous, which isn’t really the case at good old UR.

It’s a bit strange being at home right now because everyone is either back at Richmond or already headed abroad. (I am quite disappointed about missing the grand opening of D-hall and not being able to see this whole “Mongolian Grill” situation.) Through email and email chains though, I’ve already gotten lots of stories from friends who are already settled into Hong Kong, Paris, Argentina, Copenhagen and Hanoi, among other places. Their enthusiasm about what they’re experiencing, and their tales of adventure, are making me quite excited.

Technology really is a crazy, crazy thing. The fact that my friends and I can communicate so easily, and share so much instantaneously (and share pictures of what we are all doing and all the people we are meeting …) is quite bizarre. I was talking about this with my father this summer-I mean when he was my age he could not even wrap his head around the concept of the internet and now he uses that type of technology all day long in his line of work. (I think he may have a “habit” with his blackberry.) I know that I for one pathetically feel a bit jittery if I can’t check my email after a few days have passed. You can’t help but wonder what will be next. What will be commonplace when I am my father’s age that I can’t even begin to fathom now? It’s scary and exciting all at the same time I suppose. Kind of like going abroad.

Ironically, I don’t really like flying that much even though I do travel within the U.S. quite a bit. In mild turbulence I have been known to grab the hands of strangers on planes and I yelp sometimes too. With all the recent news on terrorist plots involving liquid bombs and such I know I will be a little bit more on edge than usual. Thankfully, I’m more of a head case than the rest of my family. My dad has made it a point to remind me that I’m more likely to get hit by a bus walking to work than having something happen to me when flying next week. He’s very reassuring that way.

Still, I know that there is a huge shift or change or something occurring in this country, and in the world, right now. Of course everyone from both sides of the American political spectrum has a different view on what exactly this shift is and how we need to deal with it. In all the carelessness of youth I recently find myself worrying about the future-about terrorism, about the way our country is viewed by the rest of the world, about how are country will change as China and India continue to grow in wealth and power. Between the attacks on the trains in Madrid two years ago and the bombings in London last summer, I also wonder how many more of these violent events have to occur (is there a certain number?) before they start to feel normal, just part of what we consider the reality of our world. When will it shift from a fear of something that, for all intents and purposes, is very unlikely to involve you or someone you love, to a stark realization and acceptance that tragedy in the form of violent terrorism may very well happen to you and your family? I realize that in certain parts of the world, bombings and explosions like the ones that scare me so much happen every single day, in very public places. I can not imagine living in a world where death is everywhere, where just eating lunch in a shop or walking down the street could be a death sentence. You wonder how living in that kind of environment would shape a person’s outlook on the world and ultimately on what is important to them-how they view the role of religion in society even, and ultimately on how much they value their own life.

Quite recently all the news outlets were clogged with the story of the man who confessed to killing JonBenet Ramsey, though as everyone now knows John Mark Karr is no longer considered to be linked to the case at all. I admit it was/is a fascinating story but at the same time I think that there is a lot more going on in the world right now that directly impacts the lives of all Americans than a ten-year-old murder mystery. Yet at the same time it makes sense to me why the TV stations and magazines and newspapers were so saturated with the saga. It is easier to wrap your mind (and turn out quick one hour news specials on the topic too, I suppose) around a single sensational story like the one of JonBenet’s murder or around something like the relationship status of Vince and Jen (Are they engaged? Was there a nasty fight over Brad? Maybe a baby on the way? …Oh the suspense!!!) then to even try to imagine what Iraq will look like in six months or six years or how many terrorist plots are currently being constructed (and why they are being constructed) in seemingly harmless middle class homes in London. I hope I do not sound too worrisome because I am really am an optimistic person and I know one can not spend all the hours of the day thinking about these things or madness will occur. That being said, and especially in light of the five year anniversary of September 11th, I think it is important for young people to stop and think about how and why our world is changing and what lies ahead for us and our nation, and ultimately one day, for our children.





Soooo anyhow…My internship at Bloomberg was 10 weeks long, 8am to 5pm everyday. And I was inside all day long. I spent the last two summers before this working as a camp counselor in a small town by the water, playing capture the flag and red-light green-light and human battleship with condiments (don’t ask) out in the sun all day, so though I felt VERY lucky to have a great internship this summer, I was in serious fresh air/ocean withdrawal by August 25th. Luckily, I had some time after my internship ended and before I left for Scotland to go visit some of my friends who live in Martha’s Vineyard and also spend time with my good friend from Richmond, the lovely Katie G, who happened to be vacationing on the Vineyard at the same time. I love going to the Vineyard, and it was a wonderful, relaxing four days. Two of my friends who I saw on the island, Luke and Kevin, attend Trinity College in Dublin, Ireland, so I am hoping to get to visit them at some point in the fall too. Luke, who is British, and Kevin, who is Irish, advised me that saying “I’m going to Europe” to anyone when they ask me what I’m doing this fall makes me sound silly and very unworldly and I should always be very specific with my travel details. And that a car trunk is called the “boot.” I clearly have a lot to learn.